The old man watched each face as his motorcade weaved through the cheering crowd. Some hadn’t eaten for days, their hollow eyes begging his blessing.

Through the car’s speakers, a voice was listing the itinerary of the day.

“At 8 you have the talk in the main square. We’ve already prepared it – the usual concern for the poor, a wish to heal old wounds and reach across divides.”

The old man smiled to the crowd.

“Later, we need to discuss the portfolio. $30bn is still tied up in Switzerland.”

“Leave it there,” the old man growled. “All of it.”

(c) Tim Austin, 2016. Image by Nacho Arteaga via Unsplash.

“Saint” was suggested by bestselling author Sue London, whose various (superb!) works can be found on Amazon, here, alongside other outlets. If following people on Twitter is your bag, you can find Sue @cmdrsue.

Hit that “Follow” button, below and to the right, and don’t forget to visit the OWOS Facebook Page for more content!

Isaac looked down at his sleeping daughter, his fingers stroking gently at the edge of her crib. A shard of moonlight bathed the child and, in the quiet serenity of the nursery, Isaac couldn’t imagine any sight more beautiful.

“I,…” He swallowed the words down. He knew she couldn’t hear him but the pain was too raw. “One day you’ll understand”

“I’m telling you; if you have the right bling they’ll let you do anything.”

Legs bent and muscles stretched. The cool morning air shook with squawking jeers.

“Just gotta show them what you got. And remember the breath mints.”

….

A young girl pressed her face to the bars. “Hey Mommy, look at the pwetty birdies!”

“They’re Peacocks, dear,” her Mother replied, watching on.

She whispered beneath her breath.

“Emphasis on Cock. Small C.”

(c) Tim Austin 2016. Image by Anthony Delanoix via Unsplash.

Well, would you look at that: it’s election day in the US of A! I’m a Brit so I couldn’t possibly comment. It’s important to get out and vote, though: you can never complain about the result if you didn’t take your stand and be counted.

Got a word you’d like to suggest as the next story title for One Word One Story? Pop it in the comments or tweet it to me @timaustin2k.

If you want to contribute to OWOS, check out the “Support OWOS” page above or click here. For more works by Tim, click here.

I couldn’t place the look. It was sadness and,… desperation. Her green eyes seemed lost.

I stepped closer without realising, my instinct taking over. I didn’t breathe again until I felt her hand on my chest. She was trembling.

“Please.”

She drew back and opened the phone booth door, stepping inside and turning, her hands pressing white against the glass. I didn’t understand. Not until I saw the photograph crushed in her palm.

The picture showed a booth identical to this, steamed from within – a wet hand print on the glass.

She lifted her skirt.

(c) Tim Austin 2016. Image by Joe deSousa via Unsplash.

Another decidedly NSFW story today. No, I don’t know where the image came from. But if you want to throw me another title that piques an erotic image in your head, go ahead: pop the word in the comments section or tweet it to me @timaustin2k using the hashtag #OWOS.

Michael rose his arms to display thin plastic strips digging into his wrists.

“Pipe down, Jones. You got a time out and you take it – or do you want to go back to your cell?”

Michael Jones blew in frustration, dropping his hands to his lap and thudding the back of his head to the wall. Through the thick glass of the door he watched as orange-clad men fed metal strips into presses, their heads bent low.

The lines were long: the penance unending.

“No Sir,” Michael sighed. “I do not.”

(c) Tim Austin. Image by Miguel A Ramirez via Unsplash.

Not being political, not being political, not being political,………

My generous thanks to long-time follower and supporter of the OWOS project Sarah Doughty of Heartstring Eulogies. Check out her poetry here – I can’t recommend it highly enough.

If you enjoyed this or any other OWOS stories, be sure to like and share!